The Myths of Ophelia (The Curse of Ophelia #4)

Chapter 79

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Ophelia

Somehow, the Warrior God’s name came to my lips. “Echnid,” I breathed, an answer long sought, the word rippling out across the cavern.

“Like in Valyrie’s scrolls?” Tolek whispered in awe. Like the term Fatecatcher, this name had been there. The Starsearcher Angel had left the clues right before us, and we never realized what they meant.

I flicked a glance to her, her glowing starlight wings held high above the ground, pale blue gown drifting around her ankles, but Valyrie watched the archway. Every Angel’s stare was trained on it, waiting as the Warrior God stepped from his prison realm into ours, and howls of a thousand hounds echoed in his wake.

And that ripple his name had sent through the cavern shivered across my skin, down through the rock. I had a sickening feeling it was felt all the way across Gallantia, the god of this land returning to his people after millennia locked within a realm gate through our mountains.

I thought Rebel whined, that Sapphire and the khrysaor flapped their wings, that echoes of beasts everywhere felt his presence beneath their skin.

Silken white hair flowed to Echnid’s waist, lifting on his long-suppressed power. Skin nearly as pale glowed, white mist shooting and swirling around his being. It gathered in his palms as he lifted them, searching the ether as if he hadn’t seen it this active in a very long time. Perhaps as long as he’d been caged.

When he turned his attention on us, I gasped, my wings fluttering painfully in surprise and a trembling cry catching in my throat. The Warrior God’s eyes were a pure-white milky sheen, but somehow, his stare still pierced my very spirit.

A part of me wanted to bow. My bones dragged toward the earth under his scrutiny, like a moon caught in the orbit of something much stronger than itself.

Echnid scanned the theater, but those milky eyes came back to me. Evaluated every facet of my being so I felt bare and painfully vulnerable before him. The North Star Bind on my arm burned under his study, but eventually, his attention landed on those wings—my wings.

And when the Warrior God spoke, his voice had the deep timbre but effortless cadence of one who commanded obedience without needing to say anything. “The seraphs were never meant to return.”

Swallowing and gripping Tolek’s arm around my waist for support, I forced out, “Who are the seraphs?”

Echnid didn’t answer, only smiled, and it chilled my skin.

“What does it mean, sir?” Ptholenix asked, tattoos flexing on his forearms.

“It means,” Echnid drawled, “the curse of Ophelia woke your Guardian league. It will be so curious to see what else the mingling of myths can command.”

The Warrior God spoke to his Angels as if none of us were present. Granted, we should probably have kneeled, but warriors had gone millennia without the knowledge of any god to guide us. We didn’t know what to expect.

But we did have questions. And I forced myself to dig through the pain branching through my body, to forget the trail of blood slicking my back, and be the leader the warriors needed.

“What will happen now?” After a moment, I tacked on, “Sir? Magic has been unspooling through our land—the very magic used to lock you up. Will Gallantia replenish? The fae power regulate, the animals and storms calm?”

Would the known gods work with him to restore Ambrisk to its glory? Would he, them?

But Echnid shattered all those restorative hopes when he grinned and said, “Now, we get vengeance.”

My limbs trembled. No . Dread encased my heart. “What?”

The Warrior God did not answer. Instead, he commanded, “We cannot stay here.” My skin tingled under his attention. “Bring her to me.”

“What—”

I barely got the word out before Thorn’s gleeful cackle bounced off the rock. He swooped down before me, the earth shuddering at the mighty impact, and gripped my arm so bruisingly I screamed.

“What are you doing?” I stumbled forward as Thorn turned to the Warrior God, the Mindshaper’s dark halo still dripping black.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” Tolek roared, holding tight to my waist.

But Thorn wrenched me from his grasp and shoved me toward Echnid. With a tearing stretch, my wings reopened the wounds on my back. Fresh blood poured, spraying Tolek as he lunged for me and painting his skin in a murderous vision.

Thorn gripped the back of Tol’s hair, jerking him away from me, and that severance seemed so final—so permanent, it shoved me to teeter on the edge of my breaking point.

The Angel delivered a slap to Tolek’s face with the might of an almighty deity, sending his neck snapping to the side at an odd angle.

“ TOL !” I shrieked as Thorn discarded him.

He pushed to his feet like he’d barely felt the hit, sights only set on me—set on reaching across realms to get me. Tol charged at the Prime Warrior, but he was weaponless.

“Tolek!” Cypherion called and tossed his scythe.

Tol snatched it from the air as Thorn raised a hand, riling the power of storms. Thunder rumbled through the chamber, down to my bones, and a bolt of lightning shot toward Tolek, the scythe’s glinting blade a beacon for it.

Tolek drew the weapon back, crying out as he swung forward.

The arched blade drew across the Mindshaper Angel’s torso, ripping a jagged line from shoulder to hip as lightning ignited the silver steel.

“Holy fucking Angels,” I breathed.

No weapon was supposed to be able to harm an Angel. Thorn still stood, but crimson blood streaked with glittering gold poured from that non-fatal wound, his surprise morphing into a sneer.

And then, everyone was screaming. The Angels were soaring down, forming a barrier between me and my friends.

Panic sank its claws into my chest.

“Tolek!” I shrieked again as he lifted Cypherion’s scythe once more, and the others drew swords and axes.

Thorn fell behind his brethren, stitching his wound with a flash of Angellight. Echnid’s cold hand latched around my arm.

“What are you doing?” My voice was raw and distressed as I lost sight of my friends beyond the wall of wings and ether. “ Damien! ”

He was the Mystique Angel. He was supposed to protect us, to guide us. I’d done all of this because he told me to. But he killed Annellius.

The betrayal sank into my gut. It was like being submerged into an icy river, awakening new senses that tugged my heart. It wrenched at the trust I’d handed over to our Prime Warrior, ripping up those foundations until I was a void.

I’d tried to do everything he directed. Tried to trust him.

Damien’s stare met mine, gold light tumbling from his wings, and remorse darkened his purple eyes.

But I felt nothing at it. Nothing beyond the pain shredding my body, the pit of anguish I was teetering over, and the fury of a thousand Angels searing through my blood.

Echnid’s milky eyes were gleeful as he tugged me closer, brushing my hair from my face. “Come, Ophelia. Let us work as a team.”

His touched crawled along my skin.

“Let me go!” I staggered back a step, but his grip was solid.

“ Ophelia! ” Tolek shouted, again and again.

Rina and Cyph, too.

Jezebel was spearing her silver-blue light toward the Angels, but they threw up their own shields of Angellight to quickly swallow her myth-born magic.

My hand was gripped in the grasp of a god, my life along with it. And then, Echnid ripped a tear between here and elsewhere.

Beyond the shimmering veil, a familiar mountain view lurked. One I knew, one I loved, but when I saw the rocky peaks between stone pillars and the city spread beyond, I felt nothing. Everything worth feeling was locked on the other side of the Angels.

Echnid smiled down at me, and those milky eyes halted on my Bind.

“Wait!” he shouted, holding up a hand. I wanted to burn the tattoo from my flesh if only to keep him from seeing this piece of my soul. “Bring the boy, too.”

My heart stuttered.

Bant swooped down on Malakai, lifting him right off his feet where he guarded Mila’s prone body, and soaring toward the veiled tear the Warrior God had ripped in the world.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Malakai fought, kicking wildly, but it was fruitless. His strength was nothing compared to the Angel’s.

“Go!” Echnid ordered, tugging me toward the tear. He lifted me, and the movement ripped my wounds open further.

“ NO! ” My voice was gravelly through my throat. Desperation slammed into me, swallowing up the void. My strength faded with each bolt of pain through my back, but I used what was left to shout, “Tolek!”

“Ophelia!” Tolek lunged, fighting to break the barrier of Angel wings. Slicing and clawing at them where they stood as rigid as stone. “ Ophelia! ”

But the Warrior God pulled me away, shoving me over the edge and into emptiness.

And the last thing I heard as we crossed through the veil into a familiar room atop the mountains was Tolek Vincienzo’s voice torn on a desperate cry of my name.